The SUV comes to a screeching halt in the middle of nowhere. I mean literally nowhere. There is nothing within a few miles. The last thing Theo can remember passing was an abandoned warehouse that had graffiti tags all over it.


“You sure this is the place?”

“Where the fuck are we?” hitting the button to lower the window, Luca looks out of the vehicle to see that they are indeed, in the middle of nowhere.

“Where are we? We are where you told us me to go.”

“I didn’t tell you anything.”

“What are you talking about? You were using that GPS in your hand there and saying left, right, left, right so on and so forth.”

“This isn’t a GPS bro it’s a PSP. I was playing Grand Theft Auto. This game is the shiz.”

“Grand Theft Auto? Is it any good? Wait, what the fuck am I saying? So all this time you weren't actually giving me directions, you were just playing a video game and giving me commentary that was accidentally misconstrued as directions?”

“That sounds right.”

“Fuck me. So what do we do now?”

“We go see my guy and get more blow, I thought that was already established?”

“Well I thought that was what we were doing obviously. So where does this guy actually live?”

“I don’t know man, somewhere downtown. I don’t remember the street name I just remember it’s near a Burger Shack and a Gentlemen’s Club named Delilah’s. They have the best buffet there.”

“Well that’s helpful. Thanks. Not even a street name or nothing?”

“Well how many Delilah’s can there be in the city anyway?”

“Four according to my phone.”

“See, now we are getting somewhere. Cross check them with Burger Shacks to see how many Delilah’s are next to a Burger Shack and we have an address.”

“Wow, that actually makes sense.”

“I know bro. It’s fucking genius. When I’m not high as fuck I’m like Stephen Hawking minus the robot voice and motorized wheelchair.”

“That’s kind of fucked up dude.”

“Ehhh, he ain’t here. I ain’t worried about it.”

“So how about you bust out your phone and GPS to this intersection?”

“Cell phone? GPS? Are you crazy? I don’t use that crap, I don’t want Big Brother tracking me all the time.”

“Fine. I’ll do it all myself, you just look out the window or go back to your video games.”

“Awesome, it’s just getting good man, you should totally play this after I’m done.”


Theo plugs the intersection address into his GPS which then kicks out turn by turn directions as well as an estimated travel time of 45 minutes later. Which means 45 more minutes of Luca playing video games while Theo keeps telling himself it will all be ok, he just needs some more of that powdery goodness.

The estimated 45 minute journey back from the middle of nowhere to downtown Denver took about 35 minutes, thanks to a lack of traffic as well as Theo’s attempts at breaking the land speed record. Again the vehicle comes to a stop but this time the vast nothingness that was the previous destination has been replaced by a series of strip of shady looking row homes. At the corner, just as Luca remembered was a Burger Shack and across the street from that Delilah’s Gentlemen’s Club.


“This the place?”

Luca again rolls the window down and looks around. “This is most definitely the place.” He Points to the third home in the strip; the one with the burned out or broken porch light and the upside down 4 on the mailbox. “That’s the one.”

“Alright let’s get our blow and get the fuck out of here. I hate the ghetto.”

“Come on Theo bro, this isn’t the ghetto, these is my people.”

“I’ll have to remember that next time. Let’s get our stuff from the back and then see your guy.”

"Alright. Let's do this." Sliding the PSP into his back pocket, Luca cracks his neck and steps out of the car. Without saying a thing, he makes his way to the trunk that Theo pops open and peers into the mini armory awaiting him. As his eyes scan the firearms and equipment, a range of tactical decisions come to mind-- yeah not really. Seeming to forget his own plans, he reaches for a (para)military grade assault rifle, not bothering to sling the strap over his shoulder. A silencer sits on the floor of the back of the SUV, untouched by Luca as he turns away from the car and starts off towards the house without waiting for his backup/friend.


On the approach, he sees a brief flash coming from from the farthest part of the street that he can see through the dark, cutting through said darkness and revealing a carless route ahead of them for their getaway. Rifle in hand, pointed to the ground and not concealed in the slightest, he hops onto the sidewalk in front of the property and stops, looking out for any of the man's guards who could be hidden anywhere in the pitch blackness surrounding the house. Once he's sure the coast is clear, he steps forward, onto the home's grass and traverses his way through the overgrown brush to the stone walkway leading to the front door.

Why he was using the front door was anyone's guess. Same for why he was currently beating on the screen door with the butt of the rifle and shouting at the top of his lungs for anyone inside to open up.

Hearing the racket and shaking his head in a combination of disbelief and annoyance, Theo rushes the rest of the way to where his compatriot stood, in hopes of salvaging what was left of this mission's stealth factor. No sooner than when his foot first hits the front stoop of the house, did the wooden door behind the now thoroughly ravaged screen one swing open and a muscular black man armed with a kitchen knife stood in the doorway.


"On the ground now motherfucker!" shouts the ever so personable druggie, jamming the butt of the gun into the man's nose and bursting into the house, closely followed by Theo, who stays on his guard in case of anyone else coming at them while Luca blindly storms through the front hallway.

"Get the fuck out here Dennis!"

"It's Denise, you asshole!" yelled a voice too high pitched and feminine to be a man's, but also too low pitched and masculine to be a woman's. A door slams shut somewhere else deeper inside the house, as the guard now laying on his back raises his knife to jam it into the back of Luca's leg, before Theo kicks him in the face and causes him to lose control of it. The knife goes skidding across the floor, catching both men's attention long enough for Dennis/Denise to come into view completely unnoticed, armed in a shotgun.


Dennis/Denise being a hairy chested, average built man dressed in lingerie.


"Of course this is your guy. Girl. Thing," Theo says, not bothering to conceal his gag.

Luca, somehow not as visibly disturbed by the display, leans in and whispers to his less initiated into the world of this kind of fucked up shit colleague: "That's why I said possibly the former."

"I caught onto that."

"What the fuck are you doing here Lazarus? And who's your friend?"

"Lemme answer those questions in reverse order. None of your business and to get high."

"So you come in armed to the teeth to get high?"

"Yeah, we aren't looking to get paid so how about you fuckin' fork over what you got you crossdressing freak or you'll die before your surgery."

"Wait, you're making threats to someone holding a shotgun. You do realize that, right?"

"There are two of us, and one of you. Do the fucking math here. We don't got all day, so fork what you got over and we'll be outta your hair. Also, you might wanna hire better protection."

"Fine, fine. Give me a second."


More than a few seconds pass as Dennis/Denise disappears around the corner he/she/it came from, leaving only Luca, Theo, and Unnamed Body Guard alone in the front of the house.


"Have I ever told you that you know some fucked up people?"

"I don't think."

"Well, you know some fucked up people."


Unnamed Body Guard, looking up from the ground catches a glimpse of the PSP in Luca's back pocket.


"Shit man, whatchu playin'?"

"Fuckin' GTA man."

"Hell yeah!"


Cue high five from the man whose nose Luca broke not even five minutes prior.


"Really fucked up people."

"Yeah, variety is the spice of life."


Just then, Dennis/Denise comes back into view, a briefcase presumably filled with coke bricks in hand.


"Here, now get the hell--"


Cue sirens.


"Dammit Luca, see what your little yelling stunt caused? Fucking local cops... This is just great!"

"DEA! Don't anyone move," is what blares over the sirens as the sound becomes closer, louder.

"You fucking rat!"

"What? No, this wasn't me!"


Shaking his head, Luca drops the rifle on the ground and falls to his knees with his hands behind his head.


"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Dude, there is no fucking way we're getting outta this and I ain't provoking my way to a couple extra years."

"Forget that, I'll handle this." Theo looks around trying to spot the person that appears to be in charge, he is finally able to make eye contact with a man in his mid 40's decked out in full DEA gear. "Excuse me, my name is Theo P..."

"Fuck your name. Get down before we put you down."

"You got it."

"Way to handle it."

"Suck my dick."

"Ok Gilmour.

"Well look at what we have here... The man in the DEA jacket says as he points to a brick of cocaine. Oh, and it get's better. He grabs the weapons out of Theo and Luca's waistbands and holds them up in the air. "And I assume these are unregistered. You two are so fucked."

"We'll see about that."

"What did you say scumbag?"

"I said I like your hat. Seriously, do you guys have a DEA gift shop where I can get one of them."

"Keep it up asshole, I'm sure we can find something to tack onto what is already looking like a lengthy prison sentence. Cuff them and take them back to the station."


Two other DEA agents handcuff and then place Theo and Luca in back of an unmarked car. Thirty minutes later both Theo and Luca are sitting in a 10 by 10 cell having been booked on One count Drug Possession and One count Possession of an Unregistered Firearm.


"Aren't we supposed to get one phone call?"

"Yeah I took care of it."

"Who did you call?"

"Ghostbusters."

"Seriously, that's tight. Hey did you happen to see what happened with my PSP? I really don't want to restart my game. Shit just got real."

"Fuck your game.

"Hey bro no need to get mad, things could be worse."

"I'm not exactly sure how but I'll trust you on that."

Five Hours Later

"Theo, how fucking long are we gonna have to sit here bro?"

"However long it takes for him to show up."

"And you are sure he will?"

"As sure as I am that the first thing I am going to do after I get out of here is score some coke."

"My nigga."

”Heh… Heheheheh…”

Attention turns toward a man in a torn-up suit, a pair of glasses with broken useless lenses sliding into his front pocket.

”Sure, huh?”

Five Hours Earlier

Click.

Click.

…

Click. Click. Clickclickclick.

…

Click.

CLICK.

CLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKK.

Cl-

A cell phone rings.

It lies on the floor… several feet away from the… clicking…

Flynn is on the floor. All of these things dawn on him at once.

It’s a good thing the phone rang when it did.

He had in the last few hours lost the ability to move his eyes, think in larger than one syllable words.

Eventually, the only thing he was capable of doing was making a clicking sound of variable noise within his own head...

He head been slowly but surely forgetting how to breathe.

Second ring now. He should probably answer it.

He tries for a moment to remember through brute force how hands work…

Open… Close… Knuckle... Bevel...

We’re getting somewhere here…

Third ring…

Here we go…

Open the hand.

Close the hand around the phone.

He mimes the motion twice as his mouth breaks into an involuntary grin...

Good.

We have the theory down.

Now… arms… Quick mental crash course…

Fourth ring…

He turns his shoulder against the concrete and flips his whole body, still re-learning the concept of voluntary movement…

His hand slams in a beautiful rainbow just past the phone…

Fifth ring…

He slides his shoulder back in his joint like a rake, drawing the phone closer…

He nuzzles the phone up to his chin… Lying face down on the floor… He presses his nose against the phone…

Sixth ri-

Click.

“…”

“…”
 
“…Flynn speaking.”

"Flynn. It’s Theo. How are things?"

A long sigh. Things… Flynn could tell him a thing or two about… things…

“…Not great, Theodore. I thought I was pretty through the whole ‘morphine withdrawal’ thing, then while I was out on one of my misadventures, I had a giant flashback that rendered me into this drooling mental patient state I’m currently recovering from. I’d love to tell you about it if you have the time…”

"If only I had the time, Flynn. Unfortunately, Luca and I have gotten ourselves into a spot of trouble in Denver. We’re both sitting in a jail cell. We’d really appreciate some help getting out."

“… Ah… Well… It’s not that I don’t want to, Theodore. .. I'm just sort of tied up at the moment...“

"Flynn. I need someone I can trust. You are the man for this job."

…

Flynn cracks his knuckles against his thumb…

One by one…

Pinky.

Ring.

Middle.

Index.

Flynn smiles.

“No problem, boss. I’d love to.”

"Excellent. Bail is $50,000. I'll get the money back to you as soon..."

“Don’t even worry about it for a second, my dear beloved friends. I’ll be there momentarily. Don’t you or Mister Luca say a thing until I get there.”

"..Well. Glad to hear it. You have my deepest gratitude, Flynn."

Click.

The phone fizzled out…

And a toothy yellow grin crosses Flynn’s face…

Four Hours and 55 Minutes Later Than 5 Hours Earlier

Two suitcases slam against the front desk at the Denver County Jail. Resting behind them is a man in a torn midnight black suit and red tie. A broken pair of glasses rest on the bridge of his nose.

“Sir, I am Christopher K. Clinton, attorney at law. Called the Music Man in the legal world due to my expertise at music copyright law.”

A slow blink…

“Christopher Clay… Clist…Christoph-“

“Shut up.”

He does. The paint peels off the walls, which are covered in brochures and posters of more scenic tourist destinations. A trail of saliva drips from the corner of his mouth onto a growing stain, pooling at the bottom of this nimrod’s unfinished paperwork.

“I’ve heard my clients have been SUBJECTED to such HUMANE treatments being held against their will in SMALL confined areas, what some may consider ‘lawful IMPRISONMENT’ which is of course an UNACTIONABLE act as I’m sure you’re aware.”

The deputy swats away the saliva trail resting at his tongue.

“Naw, naw, nuthin’ like that. Don’t get your feathers in a bunch, they’re fine. We just have ‘em in jail. All by the book. None of that ‘humane treatment’ what you were talking about.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. I am a lawyer. My clients’ lawyer. And I’ll let a judge be the judge of that.”

The deputy nods along. Then stops.

“Wait… I thought you were the judge of that…”

“As I am qualified to be, dear…”

Flynn stealthily eyes the sheriff’s badge pinned to his chest.

“Herschel.” Flynn’s left and right hands both pat a briefcase each, pressing them into the desk. “Within these briefcases are my client’s bail, which after posting, I will immediately demand back since upon conferring with my clients, I’m sure we can decipher where you and your unlawful band of vigilantes managed to take the law in your own hands.”

“Uh… sounds good, Mr. Clist…. Clinton?”

“Please, call me, Kris-Kross. My parents gave me my middle name after the musician.”

“Uh... sure… Your boys are down the hall.”

“Thank you, Herschel. I’ll call you as a character witness when I sue the city of Denver, the FDA, the EPA, and Eric Clapton for writing the song ‘Cocaine.’ over what you have by your own choice of words referred to as 'inhumane treatment' of my clients.”

Herschel nods proudly, for whatever reason.

Flynn… rather disappointed at how little this character needed to play in front of this lackluster audience.

Presses forward his first pawn….

***
Flynn steps down the hall. Passing a series of empty cells and the occasional uninteresting drunk sitting, face to the floor ashamed…

Flynn steps cautiously down the hall… Until he hears those voices….

"… takes for him to show up."

"And you are sure he will?"

"As sure as I am…."

Flynn… smiles.

As he slides in calmly to the cell…

”Heh… Heheheheh…”

Attention turns toward a man in a torn-up suit, a pair of glasses with broken useless lenses sliding into his front pocket.

”Sure, huh?”

”That might not be wise. According to Azrael, my help is only temporary.”

Theo grins.

"Good thing we know better.”

"FLYNN!

Both turn toward the cell’s newcomer, patting him on the shoulder.

Flynn smiles appropriately, but makes no effort to reciprocate the welcoming gestures. Theo’s smile fades as his eyes become more earnest.

"So, what’s our escape, Flynn?”

“I brought the $50,000 in bail for drug-related offenses. Our escape is out the front door.”

A beat.

“Really?”

“Good. 5 hour fucking wait without cocaine.”

"I have to admit I was expecting something a bit more theatrical from you.”

Flynn grins and rubs his hands together…

“Oh, I brought something theatrical for the both of you. A little oration I’ve scrapped together in the last few hours.”

Theo shakes his head.

“No need. Let’s ju-“

“Yes, I could have brought a lot of things.”

“I could have brought my favorite spoon and dug you out like the mole you seem to think I am.”

“Or brought a load of explosives and blown open one of these walls through which we could have gone on a wacky high speed car chase like the cartoon character, designed to amuse and entertain that others seem to mistake me for.”

Theo genuinely seems apologetic and he gingerly squeezes Flynn’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry if I offended, Flynn. Luca and I were just in a ti-“


“Instead, I’ve brought you a riddle.”

“ “…A… A riddle…”

“Listen carefully. Two men call on another asking him to bring them money to escape a cell.”

“The third man brings the money. About $50,000 for bail, which when using ‘Honest’ George Washingon-faced one dollar bills exclusively, weighs approximately 110 pounds. He stores this in one of the suitcases.”

Theo makes for the exit behind Flynn, indicating for Luca to follow. He does.

“ “Flynn, it’s been a long day. I think Luca and I are just looking forward to leaving Den-.”

“In the other suitcase, for celebratory purposes, he stores approximately 110 pounds of pure Colombian cocaine.”

Both men stop. Flynn doesn’t seem to notice.

“He then, because he’s forcing himself through the last steps of overcoming morphine addiction, AND had to drive four hours at 30 miles over the speed limit, from Omaha, Nebraska to Denver, Colorado…

“Forgets which suitcase is in which.”

“…Omaha?”

Flynn pauses.

“Cheap storage space…”

“To continue, he leaves both cases in front of a somewhat inquisitive, morbidly obese Colorado state deputy.”

“Closed.”

“But unlocked.”

“Fuck.”

“He insists that the contents of these cases are of the utmost importance… That his clients, man #1 and man #2 are not to be trusted, that man #1 and man #2 may try to pull one over on the deputy, and the only person stopping that from happening is man #3. One suitcase is green.”

“ “Flynn… I’m not sure I understand the joke here.”

“One suitcase is red.”

“Fuck. Fuck Fuck Fuck! FUCK!”

Flynn checks the watch on his wrist, the glass on the surface broken, but the mechanics within still ticking.

“The time is 2:40 AM. The location is Denver, Colorado. The last time man #3 wasn’t going through hallucinations brought on by morphine withdrawal was 2:15 AM.”

Flynn then looks between Luca.

To Theo.

“Take your time… Answers?”

Back to Luca.

“Your life is on the line. Does that change your guesses?”

And then smiles.

“Any guesses on this brainteaser, boys?”

“Because, I have to admit. I've been puzzling over this one for the last couple minutes.”

“And I don’t know the answer myself…”